Santa Cross
by thexlastxfantasy
Summary: It's Christmas and little Allen's expecting Santa to come. Cross refuses, but thanks to Allen's patheticness Cross is stuck in a chimney for the rest of the night in the most uncomfortable position.


**~Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells...**

He couldn't help it that the poor bastard didn't have someone to dress up as Santa this year. He also couldn't help the little sniffling sounds coming from Allen's bedroom as the child cried himself to sleep. Cross had to break the news to the child-sized-varmint that this year there would be no Santa Claus. Cross had just found out that every Christmas Mana would dress up as the red, psychopathic, fat man and slip down the chimmney to plant presents under the tree. Since Mana was gone and this was Allen's first Christmas without him, Mother suggested that Cross dress up as Santa for him. Ha! Like that was ever going to happen. The only way you could get him dressed up in a Santa suit would be if it were for some holiday theme game involving half-naked girls. He chuckled to himself as he poured another glass of wine. He had just sat down in front of the warm fireplace when a tear-stained Allen walked into the room with his blanket wrapped around him.

"Master, are you positive he's not coming tonight?" He whimpered, wipping tears away with an edge of the blanket.

He sighed inwardly, "Yes Allen, now go back to bed."

"Is it because he ran out of presents? Or does he have too many houses? Or does he not know where I'm living? I do move an awful lot. I can wait till tomorrow if he needs an extra day. I can wait till the next day, too. He has a lot of houses to get to, you know."

Cross had to bite his tongue. He wanted to tell the kid that Santa was dead, but despite what you might think, he did have at least half a heart. "Santa's not coming because you're on the naughty list." _Half_ a heart.

"N-naughty list?" Allen's eyes welled up with tears again. "What did I do to get on the naughty list?"

"Well, you've been...naughty."

Allen began to walk back to his bedroom when he noticed a large pile of coal by the furnace. "But doesn't Santa give you coal if you've been naughty?"

"Yes."

"You must have been naughty a lot of years; your pile is huge!" Allen exclaimed. Cross grunted irritably. "How did you get all this coal if Santa didn't visit you?"

"Because he dropped it down the chimney."

"Oh. So I could still stay up and wait for coal to come down and then I would be able to ask him why I'm on the naughty list!" Allen turned around and headed back into the living room to sit and wait by the fireplace.

"No Allen, he's _not coming_." Cross was a few seconds away from getting up and carrying this little annoying white ball of hair back to his room. "Go to bed. Now." Why couldn't he relax and enjoy a few glasses of wine without a kid staring at him?

Allen was silent as he stared into the fire. "Is Santa ill?" He quietly inquired.

"No."

He was silent again as he thought things through. Even quieter he asked, "Did he die like Mana?"

Cross didn't answer. Allen looked up at him and in those few seconds of looking into a child's hopeless eyes Cross decided he would do something wild.

"Santa isn't dead; he just doesn't want to be seen. He's supposed to stay mysterious, but how can he if all the little boys and girls stay up to see him every Christmas? Now go to bed so he can come and deliver your presents."

"So I'm not on the naughty list?!" Allen's eyes dried up right away and a look of excitement grew on his face.

"No you're not. Now get to sleep!" Cross grabbed the nearest bottle and was ready to strike the kid over the head. Allen screeched and dashed for his bedroom.

**...Jingle All the Way...**

Cross couldn't believe he located a store open this late at night that rented Santa costumes. He grunted disgustedly at the fat suit he was supposed to put on before the red jacket. Why did this Santa Claus guy have to be fat? This kid better respect him a little more if he was actually going to do this. It seemed like he was staring at the suit for an hour before he held his breath and pulled the thing on. He was praying to every and any god there was that no one had worn this before him. Picking at the white beard, Cross debated on telling the kid that Santa decided to dye it red this year. He remembered the look on Allen's face and decided he could suck it up for one year. _Next _year though was a whole different story. Next year Allen would learn the terrible truth that Santa was just a story parents told their kids because they were sick and twisted. He cussed himself out for not telling Allen that this year.

Drinking the last of his wine, he slipped the beard on and put out the fireplace. Now came the easy part; making enough racket on the roof to wake the kid up, then sliding down the chimney and getting caught placing gifts under the tree. It couldn't be that hard; the kid was a light sleeper. He found that out the hard way when him and a pretty girl were making a little too much noise...but we'll save that for another time.

Once outside he had to find a way onto the roof. He cussed himself out again for not setting up a ladder before putting on the fat suit. He waddled his way to the shed and waddled back to set the ladder up. Making sure it was secure against the house, he grabbed the bag of gifts and started climbing. The wine didn't help his balance any, but he managed to make it up to the chimney without doing any major damage to him or the gifts. Just as he stood on the edge of the chimney a great gust of wind came and knocked not just the ladder over, but Cross too.

**...Oh What Fun...**

Down he fell into the chimney in the most awkward position. Cross imagined if one were to have x-ray vision, he probably looked like a bug that was stuck on its back. He calculated himself to be in the center of the chimney. His legs, arms, head, and giant fake belly were stuck gazing up at the sky while his back and rear were pointed downwards towards the charred logs. This position was not good for his neck, and did not help his breathing that was already in terrible condition from too many cigarettes. And the two things that made matters worse were that the kid managed to stay asleep through the clamorous fall and loud swearing, and the handle of the bag was wedged between him and the wall so that the pointy boxes were jabbing into his back. Least to say, Cross _really_ wished he would have informed Allen that Santa had kicked the bucket.

Cross was almost asleep when he felt a frosty drop on his nose. Then another on his forehead. Then another on his lips. He opened his eyes just in time for a snowflake to land in his eye.

"AAAAHH!" He shrieked out in half frustration, half in pain. He began to violently thrash around, but all that managed to do was get himself a kink in his neck. To his horror he also noticed that both arms had fallen asleep. He began dropping F bombs like it was nobody's business as some more snowflakes fell down on him. Now he was wishing he would have just killed the child. Then he wouldn't be in this position, and he wouldn't have even had to think about this stupid Santa character in the first place.

**...It is to Ride...**

Allen woke up and rubbed the crustiness out of his eyes. He made a big yawn and looked around his room. Outside there was a fresh blanket of snow that was twinkling in the morning light. That's when it hit him; it was finally Christmas! He had been a good little boy and stayed in his bed when he heard Santa walking on the roof. He didn't even make the slightest twitch when he heard Santa saying some naughty words. That was probably when Santa realized how much coal he had to give to his Master. He was just on the brink of sleep when he heard someone calling his name. It sounded like his Master; he was probably trying to tell him Santa was here, so Allen just went to sleep.

Allen ran to the living room and searched under the tree. His hopes were high and he felt like his heart was beating out of his chest from excitement. Then all of a sudden that excitement burst like a bubble when he saw there was nothing under the tree. Not a single gift, not even a lump of coal. That's when Allen realized what he did wrong; he forgot to leave out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

"Oh no!" Allen slouched down against the wall and began to whimper. "Santa's going to think that I didn't care enough to leave him a plate! No wonder he didn't leave any gifts. He's probably mad at me now. What if I'm permanently on the naughty list?"

"Allen? Allen! Oh praise the heavens! Come *unintelligible* boy and *unintelligible*!" A muffled voice said. Allen looked up and thought he heard it come from the chimney. It sounded like his Master, but it was too muffled to tell.

"W-who's there?"

"It's *unintelligible*! Get me *unintelligible* you *unintelligible* brat!"

"Whoever you are, I can't understand you. I'm going to go get my Master."

"NO! I am *unintelligible* you stupid, useless, *unintelligible* excuse for a *unintelligible*!"

Allen paused on his way to his Master's room. He was positive the voice was coming from the chimney now. Suddenly something clicked in this little boy's mind. "You must be the one who stole the presents! Wait till I get my hands on you!" He seized the fire poker.

Cross heard the clink of the poker and pure fear struck through him. No matter how many akuma a man has faced, it will never prepare him for getting rammed up the butt with a sharp poker.

"NOOO!" He screamed. Allen heard that loud and clear. Sticking his head up the chimney, he saw an enormous brown bag.

"Are those the gifts? Give them back!" Allen pulled the bag out, causing Cross to drop farther down the chimney. Now his rear end was sticking out. He heard Allen gasp.

"Santa! Is that you?"

"Yes," Cross hissed. "Get me out of here or you're on the naughty list for life."

Within the next half hour Allen was able to squeeze the large man out. Cross began gasping for air and stretched out on the floor face down.

"Santa, I'm so sorry I forgot the cookies! Do you still want some? I'll go get you a glass of milk, too!"

"No boy, I prefer scotch."

**...A One Horse Open Sleigh~**

'Twas Calka Frog who gave me this idea! Thanks!


End file.
